My Bloody Valentine Episode Tag
by csijenniferlynn
Summary: Grace was nearly murdered.  Again.  Back at the CBI, Lisbon helps to lighten Grace's mood, albeit only momentarily.


Notes: This is my second attempt at Mentalist fanfiction. My first stunk so badly that I removed it from the site. This is an episode tag to My Bloody Valentine. I feel like Grace's and Lisbon's relationship has been developing into a closer bond for a while, and I felt like Lisbon would have wanted to help Grace through the trauma of nearly getting shot to death. I hope you like this, and that my use of dialogue and characterization rings true to the characters we know and love. Please leave me a review to let me know how I did!

Grace Van Pelt had just been shot at. Again. She was beginning to lose track of how many times her job had nearly cost her her life. This time, just like last time and the time before that, she'd shot the guy dead before he'd hurt her. She was getting tired of shooting people dead. Just like that. One minute, some asshole was alive and trying to kill her, the next, he was lying flat on the ground, blood oozing from a bullet wound (or two or three).

Grace was in the shower at CBI headquarters, having been recently rescued by her knight in shining armor (not soon enough to prevent her from having to snuff out another life, however). She stood under the nearly scalding water, having already washed, simply standing there, relishing the fact that she still had feeling in her limbs, that she could still stand upright, that she could feel the pain of the intense heat. Maybe it kind of made her feel like she was being punished for taking out another life; she was figuratively burning in the heated hell that had become her life.

Grace shook her head, wet tendrils of hair sweeping across her bare shoulders; she needed to stop thinking such things. She had escaped the bullpen for the locker room as quickly as she could after letting her team see for themselves that she was still alive and well (was she well?); she had come here to clear her head, but her thoughts could not escape the morbid place they'd settled into.

Resigned to knowing that she was going to have to plaster a fake smile on her face the rest of the day if she wanted Lisbon to let her keep working, Grace stepped out of the shower and slipped into a plush terrycloth robe Rigsby had given her and wondered for maybe the billionth time why she had ever chosen her job over him. Look at where that had gotten her. With tears in her eyes, Grace wrapped a towel around her hair, and felt annoyed at its heavy weight; it seemed that the literal weight of the wet hair wrapped on top of her head was a pretty good metaphor for the figurative weight she felt she was carrying with her. She dressed in silence. Not wanting to emerge from the sanctuary of the silence of the bathroom just yet, Grace decided to braid her wet hair into two long French braids. She hadn't worn pigtails since she was a teenager, and she figured she'd be teased by at least one of the guys for wearing them, but frankly, she wanted to make sure that fixing her hair took a long time. As she stared blankly into the mirror, Grace heard the door squeak open. She cringed at the noise and the unwelcome intrusion. She didn't look to see who had stepped in, but pulled apart three widths of hair and began the rhythmic process of weaving them into a braid.

Teresa Lisbon watched quietly from the doorway.

After an entire long braid snaked over Grace's left shoulder, Lisbon said quietly, "You know, I never did learn how to do that."

Grace, as determined as ever to pretend she was fine, replied, "Really? Why not?" She could do this small talk thing just as well as Lisbon.

"Guess it had something to do with the fact that I didn't have a mom to teach me and I was too busy being a mom to my brothers to worry about having any friends to teach me."

Grace's fingers fumbled. The braid she'd been working on was dropped, and the strands of hair began unweaving themselves. She had never heard Lisbon talk about her past, at least not willingly, and certainly not in conversation with her. So much for small talk.

"Wow, boss, I'm sorry." She scooted over on the locker room bench, and Lisbon took the hint and sat down. "It's easy, really. I'll show you."

Fearing that Jane would mock her into her grave and that she'd lose every ounce of creditability she had with Wainwright if she came back to the bull pen looking like a ten year old, Lisbon acquiesced anyway.

Grace simply began braiding her own hair again, telling Lisbon exactly what she was doing and having her watch the process. Then, for the second time, Grace allowed the braid to unravel itself. "Your turn, boss."

"Grace, what the hell? I can't just braid your hair. You'll look awful!"

"You'll never learn if you don't try, Boss. Besides, I really should take the pigtails out before I go back to the bullpen anyway. You know Cho would give me that look. You know the one."

Lisbon laughed as Grace smirked. Yes, she did know precisely the look, and yes, Cho would definitely give it if he saw a state agent wearing pigtails. Lisbon picked up the three widths of hair Grace separated out for her and began fumbling through her first attempt at braiding. The two women laughed as Lisbon worked, particularly as she cursed her way through every mistake she made, and she certainly made plenty! In the end, Grace looked ridiculous. She unraveled both of her pigtails and pulled her hair effortlessly into a single plait lying over a shoulder.

Lisbon watched in annoyance as Grace worked. Finally, she grumbled, "How the hell did you do that? If I tried to wear a damn braid, I'd look like a five year old."

"Not true. Sit down. I'll prove it."

Prove it she did. Grace created a French braid across Lisbon's hair where a hairband would sit, and then pulled the rest of her hair into a ponytail, and wrapped the end of the French braid around the base of the ponytail. After securing the braid with a few carefully concealed bobby pins, Grace said, "There. See?"

Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief at her reflection. She actually looked, well, pretty damn good, and most importantly, not like a five year old. Jane really couldn't rib her about this.

Lisbon noticed Grace's reflection in the mirror and sighed again. "I'm glad you're safe, Grace. You should have seen the guys when Wainwright told them us we couldn't go out and search for you. You scared the shit out of us."

"What do you mean you couldn't search for me? Rigsby found me."

"Yeah, only because he spent the entire night figuring out that the idiots who were searching for you were using the wrong cell tower as the center of their search radius. He took matters into his own hands after that, and thank God he did. We almost lost you again."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I get the distinct impression that I have PLEASE SHOOT AT ME tattooed on my forehead or something." Grace smiled, but anyone who knew her could have seen that her smile didn't extend to her eyes.

"Grace, I know the last thing in the world you want is to take some time off work, and the second to last thing in the world you want is to go to counseling. Look, I'm not going to make you take time off, and I'm not going to force you to go to counseling, but if you're not willing to do either of those things, I am going to force you to talk to me. I don't really know how exactly. I'm thinking maybe Jane can teach me how to hypnotize you." Lisbon smirked and watched as the smile on Grace's face became a genuine smile.

"Thanks, Boss, really, but what if I don't want to talk? What if there are things I don't want to share, things that make me feel like I'm crazy, things that I want to keep to myself?"

"Then I'll just have to hypnotize your ass. You've got to talk, Grace. Really."

"No offense, Boss, but it's not like you open up to people. Why should I have to?"

"Maybe because being as tight-lipped as a damn clam hasn't made me a happier person. Besides, you know Jane always gets me to talk in the end. I guess I just want to extend that annoying, obnoxious courtesy of his to you, because, you know, it's actually kind of helpful. Don't you dare tell him I said that."

Grace grinned. "Fine. I'll try to talk. I'm not making any promises. I'm also not getting lost in God Forsaken backcountry woods with a hooker again."

"Sounds good to me."

Grace and Lisbon walked back to the bullpen together. The miserable thoughts that had been dominating Grace's mind shifted to the backburner just enough to allow her to smile genuinely at the guys and to focus on her work. Well, until she saw the damn necklace again. Maybe she'd have to talk to Lisbon about just how her gut clenched every time she saw the shiny chain, how she heard the gunshots and tasted the cooper in the air around her dead fiancé every time her fingertips touched the harmless metal, how anger coursed through the body with alarming force every time the sunlight coming through the window by Jane's couch made the pendant shine. Maybe. Maybe not.


End file.
